Savage Rhythm (19 page)

Molly stopped breathing. She burned everywhere he touched her, and her pulse thudded in her head like she was about to pass out. Every sensation, every thought from when he was on stage came flooding back to her, and she felt a hungry absence inside her.

“Now,” he said, his voice rough. “Here.”

Oh my fucking God.

Molly’s heart pounded in her chest as she looked around, suddenly aware of how not alone they were, of how much noise even the remaining hangers-on were making. She couldn’t see anyone, but she could hear them, knew people would start looking for Declan Donovan soon.

Declan pushed her back against the side of the looming bus and she let out a small moan. He pushed down her tank top and bra, exposing her breasts, taking a nipple between his forefinger and thumb and squeezing.

“Oh, God,” she groaned.

“Nobody can make me sing like that,” he rasped.

He took her chin in his other hand and kissed her violently. His tongue pillaging her mouth while his hands roved over her body, anywhere, everywhere, increasing in urgency. Molly let her hands explore his back—oh God, his back, muscular and hard and writhing—while he found the hem of her skirt and yanked it up over her hips.

He paused for a second, as if in surprise, hands on her panties. Then he slid his hand between her legs and grabbed her sex.

She actually yelped.

“Take these off,” he grunted.

Molly leaned back against the bus, panting, blinking into the dark, searching for his eyes. Hesitating. Not because she was unsure, or because she didn’t want this, exactly this, but just the last vestige of insecurity, of feeling bad about wanting this…

She heard him growl. Heard the sound of his zipper. His grip tightened and she nearly came, clutching at his arms, not sure if she could stand.

“That’s an order, sub,” he said. “Panties off.”

That sense of relief flooded through her, leaving nothing behind except how much she wanted him. Yes. This. Panties off. Molly hooked her thumbs into the waistband and stripped them clean off. She barely had time to step out of them before Declan had her back up against the side of the bus, his hands cupping her ass, lifting her as if she weighed nothing at all. She sighed, throwing her arms around his neck as her legs went around his waist, and then she gasped as he impaled her in one fluid stroke.

Molly couldn’t do anything but hold on, wide-eyed, while Declan slammed into her, fucking her mercilessly against the Savage Heart tour bus while roadies and groupies and whoever loitered around, just out of sight. Her first orgasm came upon her with almost no warning at all, and she bit into his shoulder while she shuddered around him, unable to stop herself, to stop him, to stop the next orgasm from coming over the crest of the first, one after the other, pounding her into complete submission.

She wasn’t quiet by the end. How could she be? But she didn’t care anymore. Declan was just never satisfied, pumping into her until she had nothing, nothing left, until she was sure she would pass out. When he finally came, even Declan’s knees buckled slightly, and he fell against the bus, one hand still supporting Molly. Which was good, because she wasn’t sure she could stand on her own. She wasn’t sure she could speak, either.

Molly didn’t even remember about a condom until Declan took it off of himself, tied it up, and threw it away. She was horrified that she hadn’t even thought about it.

“When did you put that on?” she asked.

“Before you got here,” he said. “I meant it when I said I might have to fuck you in the middle of the set.”

“No kidding,” Molly said. She looked down—she looked obscene. No other word for it. Boobs exposed over the top of her bra, skirt hiked up over her ass, obviously looking freshly fucked. “Look what you did,” she said.

“Makes me want to do it again,” he said.

There was a beat where he seemed to actually contemplate doing just that—was that even physically possible?—and then he shook his head violently. “Damn,” he said. “I have to finish the set, or believe me, Molly, we wouldn’t be done here.”

Declan touched her face briefly, softly, before covering her breasts, fixing her skirt. He kissed her sweetly, then bent down, picked up her forgotten panties, and put them in his pocket.

“C’mere,” he said, and picked her up just as easily as he had before.

“Don’t you have to go back to the show?”

“Yeah, but you’re gonna wait for me on the bus,” he said, punching in the door code while Molly clung to his neck.

“Hey, wait—is that Lenny?” she hissed. She could see a familiar, massive bulk standing about twenty feet from the front of the tour bus, out of sight from where they had just fucked, but still weirdly close.

She felt Declan smile more than saw it.

“I had him and another security guy make sure no one bothered us,” Declan said. “No way I’m going to let some random chucklehead get anywhere near you.”

She swatted ineffectively at his shoulder, and he laughed as he climbed the bus stairs, Molly still in his arms.

“Good to know you liked thinking you could get caught, though,” he said, apparently not intending to put her down. “Gives me lots of ideas.”

Molly squeezed him a little tighter. “Ideas?”

They were finally in Declan’s bedroom. He carefully lowered her onto his bed and now she could see him smiling.

“We’ll be staying at Volare in New York,” he said. “You’re going to wait here for me, naked, legs spread. I’m going to finish the show. And sometime later tonight, we’ll be at Club Volare. And then, baby, I have some things I want to do.”

***

Amazingly, Molly fell asleep after that. Naked. With her legs spread.

She had amazing dreams.

Still, none of that could change the fact that Declan had worn her out. She wondered about that as she was drifting off—how on earth did he have the energy to go back on stage and finish a performance? Molly felt like she was made of Jell-O by the time he’d put her on his bed.

He was a freaking animal.

What would a man like him dream up at a place like Club Volare?

Images of leather and lace and restraints and even metal floated through her mind as she fell in and out of consciousness, luxuriating in the feel of his sheets on her naked body, in the knowledge that she was there for him. Dreams and reality started to mix together into one continuous, unrecognizable state. She thought, for the most part, that she was awake, until Declan’s touch actually awakened her.

She wasn’t lying on her back, legs spread. She’d curled up and gone right to sleep. And Declan had just gotten into bed to be her big spoon.

“Oops,” she murmured, turning to face him.

He kissed her forehead. “You were tired.”

This, in itself, was new. So new. Being held by him felt…

No, stop thinking. Don’t ruin it
. So Molly snuggled in deeper, instead, nuzzling into his chest. Declan’s arms tightened around her. And she let herself just feel good.

“Why are you so good at taking care of me?” she asked.

He didn’t answer except to run his hand up and down her back, his face buried in her hair.

“I do that, too,” she murmured, feeling close to sleep again, and maybe a little too lost in the freedom of nearly being nearly unconscious. “With Lydia. My friend Shauna does it with everyone. Funny. The only people I know who take care of people like that never had anyone to take care of them.”

She felt him stiffen slightly, then hug her a little bit tighter.

“My mom and I always tried to take care of each other,” he said, finally. “I’m better at it now.”

He wasn’t wrong. The next time she woke up, he already had her bag out and was pulling some sweats on her.

“Go back to sleep,” he said when she tried to get up. Then he scooped her up, cradling her in his arms, and said, “I need you rested for when you wake up.”

Molly smiled into his neck. “Why’s that?”

“We’re at Volare.”

chapter
20

Declan had never needed much sleep. He’d learned to do without when he was a kid; the nights he needed to stay up and be vigilant, and somehow he’d just never really gotten out of the habit.

But all he wanted to do was go sleep next to Molly.

He just didn’t want to be far away from her. And, truthfully, holding her while she slept was just as peaceful for him as burying himself deep inside her, in its own way. It meant he actually slept. And slept well.

Weirdest fucking thing.

But now they were at Volare New York, and Molly was still worn out—something that gave him some satisfaction—and there were people he hadn’t seen in too damn long. There were about a million things to be worked out before the big show at Madison Square Garden: when he was going to see Uncle Jim, whether he’d bring Molly along. And tonight, there was equipment he wanted to get.

And Adra had a damn big mouth.

“Why are you all looking at me like that?”

Chance Dalton, the guy who’d given him his membership at Volare L.A., Lena, Chance’s girl, Lola and Roman, who ran the New York club, and Adra were all sitting around the lounge, smiling. It was borderline creepy.

“I hear you’re having an excellent tour,” Roman said, without a trace of irony.

“Aw, fuck, Adra, you really told them?”

Adra just clapped her hands.

“C’mon, buddy, she was never going to keep that quiet,” Chance said, picking up another beer. “We’re all going to meet her at the shower?”

Lola held up a hand. “You did tell her it’s not an actual baby shower, right? Not my style. I want to see Doms and subs having a good time.”

Declan ran a hand through his hair. Damn. He still needed to talk to Molly about the baby shower. He’d been trying to gauge her response, her readiness to deal with it, but it wasn’t like they’d had a lot of time. And most of it had been spent fucking.

“Depends,” Declan said. “I don’t know if she can make it. I’ll find out. You guys weren’t waiting around to grill me, were you? ‘Cause I gotta be honest, I’m just headed out to get some gear.”

“Good for you,” Lola said, trying to get up with her giant belly. Roman put a hand out and gave her a look, then got up himself.

“Good for Molly,” Adra murmured.

“I will show him where it is, Lola,” Roman said. “You sit.”

“I’m not
helpless
, Roman.”

“No, you are my wife.” The big Spaniard kissed Lola back into the couch until her arms went slack on the cushions. “And you are carrying our child. You will put your feet up, and I will show our guest around. And I will bring you a golden apple or the last Siberian tiger or whatever else you may want while I am at it.”

Lola tried to hide her smile. Declan had never seen anyone quite so obviously in love. “Peeled grapes,” she said, ruffling the very distinguished Roman’s hair.

“You will pay for that later,” Roman murmured just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Chance laughed.

Maybe others did, too.

Declan, though, was just kind of stunned. That’s what it looked like. Love.

It didn’t seem so strange anymore.

~ * ~ * ~

Molly couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so well, and she didn’t even know where, exactly, she was sleeping. Just that it was with Declan. At Volare New York. She’d let him carry her inside through a secret VIP entrance, and he’d had someone turn most of the lights out ahead of them so they wouldn’t wake her all the way up. He’d gone somewhere and come back a little while later with some bags, and since then it had been just wonderful. They shifted together and held each other, and just
fit
. Like they’d been sleeping together for years.

Somewhere in the back of Molly’s mind all of her danger alarms were going off again, all at once, but it turned out that having to be strong through years of traumatic crap with no one around to help her had a silver lining: that ability she had to push down painful stuff until she could deal with it later? Turned out it also worked at silencing danger alarms. Because dammit, she was enjoying herself. And she didn’t want to stop.

So she’d burrowed deeper into the hollow between Declan’s shoulder and his neck and let her sleepy eyes open very slowly.

Well, she opened them slowly until she realized she had a view of the biggest morning erection she’d ever seen. Then they flew right open. It was ridiculous. The bed sheet looked like a circus tent.

“Oh my God,” she said.

Molly couldn’t help it. Her hand just…went. She smiled as she let herself linger over his abs, touching him lightly, the way he’d teased her, marveling at how soft his skin was, even when it was stretched tight over so much hard muscle.

Declan woke up when she was oh so close and caught her hand.

“Nope,” he said. His abs were contracting in hypnotizing ways.

“Why?” she asked.

“Gotta talk.” He sounded strained. Secretly, Molly smiled.

Then he rolled her on her back and trapped her there, spreading her legs and positioning himself perfectly. She groaned.

“I can’t concentrate like this,” she complained.

“It’s payback. You’ll concentrate like this, or I won’t let you come for hours.”

Molly stuck her tongue out at him and Declan ducked and nipped it. She squealed from the shock, and then felt herself get incredibly, incredibly wet. If he didn’t let her come after this she might die.

“Ok,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’ll listen. I’ll concentrate.”

Declan grinned, shifting so that he spread her legs even farther. “Damn right you will. And you gotta tell me the truth, Molly.”

She was starting to think this was something serious, and she frowned. “Of course I will, Declan.”

“Lola is having a baby shower. You’ve been invited. It’s not a usual baby shower, whatever the hell that is. I think it’s just gonna be another crazy Volare party, but I said I didn’t know if we could make it.” His dark eyes were soft and serious, and he brushed her cheek with one hand. “We can go anywhere you want. It’s New York, there’s stuff to do. And I figured you’d want to see my Uncle Jim, so we could go do that instead.”